


Enthusiastic Fighting

by Tina0609



Series: Steph and Tom: One-Shots [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 11:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12189315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: Tom is bored, his girlfriend has to work. Then Tom is at work and kind of messes up.





	Enthusiastic Fighting

**Author's Note:**

> So, it seems like I’ll be doing a thing...  
> Believe me, I’m going to continue Scoop. I’m just really busy at the moment, and I feel like I need to put a little more work into that than just write something down quickly. As soon as my life is a little less hectic and I actually have something like free time on the weekends (means, after moving into a new flat), I’m going to continue.  
> However, I do have ideas. If you’re following me on tumblr, you realise that there are so many ideas, I couldn’t possibly write them all down for Scoop. So, I’ve decided to do a one-shot series. It’s going to be one characater (Steph) and Tom. There’ll be one-shots in no chronological order, just little bits of their lives.  
> So, if you want to read something, please ask!

“That freaking bastard,” Steph whispered to herself, closing the Youtube video she just watched. “Tom Hiddleston, you stupid git.” Did she really just watch her boyfriend complaining about her during an interview? Well, not knowingly complaining for the public, but she knew exactly what he’d meant with his answers.

She didn’t actually believe the message Luke – Tom’s publicist – had sent her half an hour ago, saying, “Tom told me about your fight, he just didn’t tell me he would actually speak about it. And I promise the flirting wasn’t as bad as it looks in this. Sorry!”

“Von wegen, sorry,” Steph grumbled to herself in German. She tended to do this, especially since her boyfriend decided to do something stupid like this. Living in London for almost five years hasn’t changed any of that.

Yes, they did have a fight. Yes, she maybe said something stupid, but Tom had been getting on her nerves. She loved him, dearly. Two years into the relationship, and basically living together – though, they hadn’t made that official, she just had most of her stuff at his place, slowly placing decorative pillows everywhere – didn’t change that. In fact, it only grew, as boring and disgustingly cute that sounded. But goodness, he was overbearing at times. She loved him being enthusiastic, she really did. Whenever she had a stressful day or an argument with a customer, she knew she could come to Tom’s flat and he’d tell her about his jog in the park or how the lady in the bakery had a new recipe for something. He could talk for hours about that.

But being a freelance journalist for a living also meant that sometimes she couldn’t just sit there listening to Tom talk. Not when she had an article with 3,000 words to finish and another one waiting to be written. They weren’t Pulitzer price worthy and they wouldn’t cure the hunger in the world, but she was proud of her columns, or whenever a newspaper asked her to do a piece. Of course, sometimes it was just a little one-hour-meeting, plus taking a picture, no permanent editor had the time to attend, but Steph was happy she was considered to cover the jobs. Especially, not writing in her first language.

* * *

 

So, that scenario occurred the day before. It’d been a Wednesday, and she had to finish two articles by the next day. Steph had been typing away, being in the flow of writing some nice piece about the local theatre group spanning people from 13 to 74 years old. She loved the interview she’d done, and the pictures she’d taken, but she just hadn’t been able to concentrate before. But then it’d been flowing, and she’d been in a writing mood.

Tom had bought a new electric torch. It’d been a stupid thing to fight over, she knew that now. Hell, she’d known it yesterday. But it wasn’t the fact he’d bought it, they were fighting about. He just wouldn’t. Stop. Talking. Abut it. Not for at least 30 minutes. He was literally babbling away while trying to show her how it could send messages in morse.

“Tom,” she’d sighed, annoyed, when the light fell into her eyes for the second time in five minutes.

“Yes, darling?” She’d heard the grin in his voice, he’d definitely knew what he was doing.

“Could you maybe stop trying to blind me?” They’d been sitting in his office for about an hour, her polishing her article, Tom first doing some kind of research on the internet, then getting the torch he’d told her about and then proceeding to annoy the hell out of Steph. She considered herself to be a funny person, she really did. In fact, they both laughed a lot. Together or at each other. But enough was enough.

“But I’m doing code practice.”

“Code practice somewhere else then.”

“Ha, but there’s no one there to appreciate the message. You just have to pay attention.”

She’d looked at him then. He was sitting opposite her, on the comfy looking (and actually being) sofa. Torch in hand, flicking the little switch to make signals, he smiled brightly at her. He’d had a free day, preparing for interviews for the upcoming Ragnarok promo, but not doing much else. He’d been bored, and Steph had known. She should have shut her mouth then.

“I’m paying attention to my work, Tom,” she’d said. “This needs to be finished by tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

Five minutes later she’d been insulted – yes, insulted – by a constant stream of sometimes fast, sometimes slowly blinking lights.

“What the heck are you doing?” Steph hissed.

“Still practising. I’ve just learned another sentence. Watch.” She’d watched. With a raised eyebrow and narrowed eyes she’d sat on her chair, watching.

“Tom, shut up.”

“I’m not saying anything, that’s the whole point of this.”

“No, seriously, Tom. Stop it. Go somewhere else, outside for all I care. I don’t have time for this. It’s like I’m saying this to an overexcited five-year-old. Go out and play and take your torch with you. I can’t concentrate.”

Tom had blinked at her. The he’d opened his mouth, closed it, and blinked again. “Sorry,” he’d muttered, switched off the light, but hadn’t left. Instead, he’d opened his own laptop and seemed to concentrate on that.

Silence. No light. What a blessing. Except for when he’d closed the laptop, the silence was interrupted once more. This time, by his voice. “You know what, missy?” he’d said, “You had no right to talk to me like that. I get it, you’re stressed. But calling me an overexcited five-year-old? No. no way.”

“Did you just call me ‘missy’?”

“I did.”

“Well, don’t.”

They’d stared at each other. It’d been stupid to even consider the idea of fighting about something like this. But neither one of them had been able to just keep their mouths shut.

“You know what, Tom? I won’t apologise for calling you a five-year-old, because you were. I get it, you get bored with nothing to do, but I’ve got a job to do. I’m not calling you when you’re on set. I get it. And I love that you get excited about things. But honestly, maybe try not to?”

“Well, sorry for trying to make you smile and relax. Won’t happen again.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Oh, come on, you’re not actually pouting, are you?”

“You know, when your girlfriend tells you to shut up, it’s not the best feeling. Sorry for having this face.”

“Yeah, well, I also told you to leave, didn’t do that, either,” she’d muttered.

“You don’t tell me to leave in the house I’ve paid for. If you want to get away from me, be my guest and go to your flat.”

Steph had seen when he’d realised his mistake. But before he’d even opened his mouth, she’d closed her laptop and had stormed past him to the door. “I’m going to the flat I’m paying for, then. With the money I’ve earned. You go and buy a torch with your money then. And you ARE overbearing and overenthusiastic.” With that she’d shut the door and left.

At home, after calming down a bit, she’d tried to call him. He wouldn’t pick up. He also hadn’t answered her texts and that had gone on for the whole day. If he was overbearing, he was at least just as stubborn and passive aggressive when they fought. He could admit that he was wrong, but when Tom was sure he was right about something, he wouldn’t let you forget that he was mad at you. The problem was, to apologise, he would actually have to listen.

* * *

 

Tom had no idea, what exactly had caused this, but here he was, sitting opposite a good looking journalist, who flirted with him, and talked about Steph. He just hoped she wouldn’t see it whenever it’d be published in two or three weeks in time for the Ragnarok promotion.

“So, Tom,” she started as she flipped her hair, “what are you excited about?”

He could have easily said ‘Tennis’, or ‘Tea’, or ‘Shakespeare’. Instead he went with, “Nothing, really. Or, at least, I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t?”

“Well, as people know, I can get a little…intense talking about stuff.” The interviewer actually giggled at that, and Tom had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. “And sometimes, the people I talk to tell me to ‘shut up’. Or that I’m an overenthusiastic five-year-old. And to avoid that today, I’m just going to say literally nothing.”

He knew he was mean. And he knew, Steph didn’t actually mean what she said. Or, maybe she did mean that, but he actually WAS being a little too excited. At least, that was what her ten messages said. He hadn’t replied. Yes, Tom also knew he was stubborn. And he knew that his comment about him paying for the house was stupid as well. But knowing this was one thing. And admitting it was a whole different story.

So he was going to do the first step (Yes, he knew, she actually made the first step. But there was that thing about admitting something, again.) and call her. Invite her over. She’d surely finished her article, and be glad he called. Tom’s surprise was huge when it was her voice mail that greeted him after the first three rings. For each of the five times he tried to reach her.

He was even more surprised that Steph almost closed the door to her flat on him when she spotted him in the hallway. His foot hurt, but it was worth it, considering she couldn’t close the door.

“Hey, now! Why would you do that! I came to talk!”

Steph huffed. Her dark brown eyes going wide, her brown her framing her face. “You came to talk? Sorry, I thought you were going to literally say nothing today. You did, in fact, say nothing to me all day.”

Tom furrowed his brow, how did – but he couldn’t even think further, as Steph interrupted him.

“Yeah, you would wonder about that, wouldn’t you?” Oh, so he’d said that out loud. “Your new friend Lily thought the interview was so great, she wanted to share a bit of it with her Youtube followers. Congratulations, Tom, they all feel very sorry for you and the suffering you have to endure by being with me. How can anyone anywhere tell you to ‘shut up’?”

He cringed at that. “Steph, I’m sorry, I really am. Please? Talk about it? Let me come in?”

“I don’t know if I want you in that flat, I’ve paid for.”

“Steph.” He actually sounded whiney now, he knew it.

“Oh, don’t you dare start with your puppy dog eyes and that pout.” Nevertheless, she opened the door for him and went through her hallway to her living-room, where she sat down on her couch. Tom followed her and took in his surroundings. He’d been here a lot of times, but not so much during the last couple of months. A glass of wine stood on the coffee table, a blanket was on the sofa, along with a German book, Tom didn’t know the title of.

He sat down next to her, not touching. “I’m sorry, I guess.” At Steph’s raised eyebrow, he hastened to add, “I’m sorry. Period. No guessing, just being sorry.”

“For?”

“Not answering your texts and talking about you in an interview. I really shouldn’t have done that. And about the comment with my money and the house. Not about the torch thing, though. I didn’t mean any harm by that.”

“Thank you. I’ve tried calling you to apologise. I’m sorry about the torch thing, by the way. But I did have to write and you did drive me mad a bit. But I didn’t want to call you a five-year-old. You are, sometimes, but I know you wanted to make me relax. I couldn’t apologise, though, because you didn’t pick up. And then I get a text from Luke, telling me ‘the flirting’ wasn’t as bad as it looked, and that you basically talked about us. All while you didn’t talk TO me. That’s kind of rude, Hiddleston.” Steph tried to mask it, but by the way she bit her bottom lip, Tom knew, she really was upset about that. “I’m sorry. I guess, I can be a little stubborn sometimes.”

“Hmhm.”

“And a little mean as well.”

“Yeah, well, me too, obviously.”

“Obviously.” They grinned at each other. “Am I forgiven, then?”

“I guess. Me, as well?”

“I’ll think about it.” Tom laughed, when Steph punched him in the ribs. He caught her hands in his and pulled her closer. He gave her a chaste kiss on the mouth. “You are,” he murmured.

“Thank you.” Steph leaned forward to kiss him again, but was stopped by Tom looking around her flat.

“You know, about the money thing and you being at my house…” He trailed off.

“Yes…? You know, if you avoid kissing me by saying something and then just stop, I feel kind of neglected here.”

Tom smirked, before leaning forward, kissing her again, just to stop way too soon. “You want to move in?”

Steph blinked. “Huh?”

“Look around, darling.” As she did, he continued, “There’s not a lot of stuff in here, because everything is at my place. I think it’s safe to say, you are basically living with me already. And when I’m not overbearing, and you’re not mean, I think we work pretty well.”

She smiled at him. “We do.”

“So?”

“Yes.” This time, when he leaned in, his hands in her hair and moaning into her mouth, Steph didn’t complain about him being overenthusiastic.


End file.
